


Debris

by Nosow



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Connor is definitely the love interest of this story, Death, Don't worry, Drunk Gavin, Eventual Happy Ending, Eventual Relationships, Eventual Smut, Explicit Language, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Gavin Reed Being an Asshole, I'm trying to explore other sides of Gavin and his complexity, Jealous Connor (Detroit: Become Human), Slow Burn, Smut, Violence, but I swear this is a Connor/OFC, it starts with Gavin but give it a chance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-05
Updated: 2018-10-18
Packaged: 2019-07-07 04:34:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 14,405
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15900996
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nosow/pseuds/Nosow
Summary: *MOMENTARILY SUSPENDED; to be completed at a later date!*It’s been months since the Androids were granted their freedom, and life has resumed peacefully for Detective Diem Nash. Newly transferred to Detroit’s precinct and dating the arrogant but handsome Gavin Reed, Diem thinks that matters are almost normal again…but things aren’t always as they seem. With tensions once again rising between Androids and humans, her relationship with Gavin teetering dangerously on the edge, and a strange, budding friendship with the charming yet mysterious RK800, Diem begins to realize that the fight for Detroit is far from over.





	1. Welcome to Detroit

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! My name is Nosow and I'll be your attendant for this wild ride of a fic!
> 
> As a heads up, I'm a busy college student, a Student Assistant for my program, and the momma of several adorable but very needy animals. Point being...updates might not be daily or evenly numerous throughout the week, but they WILL come - as fast as I can get them out!
> 
> Now; a few things to get us started. This is my first time writing a D: BH fic, but I'm very excited to give it a go! This will be a slooooow burn, with eventual smut. For those of you that are here for a Connor/OFC fic, don't be deterred! This is one! It might not seem like it at first, but that's because I took the idea of exploring Gavin's character and ran with it. When it comes to him, I'm not demonizing him, but am still sticking true to his asshole nature. I'm basically trying to explore his character complexity, reason for hating Androids, and how he treats the people he cares about behind closed doors. 
> 
> This fic is rated mature; there will not be a whooole lot of focus on Gavin/Diem smut; most of the gritty details of that will be mentioned and described, but not in great detail. When we get to Connor/Diem smut, the rating of the fic will change to explicit. If this changes at any point during my writing (as it likes to take a mind of its own), I'll let you guys know!
> 
> I'm also going to be sticking with my trend of including lyrics at the beginning of each chapter; these typically are lyrics I feel describe the mood of the chapter.
> 
> I swear I'll stop rambling now and let you all read. I really hope you guys enjoy! <3

_A fresh start_  
_Let me walk around your ball park_  
_A fever we can learn from_  
_Now just breathe it in_

  
“Excuse me, miss?”

Diem jolted out of her daydream at the sound of the voice, brought abruptly back to her surroundings. It was jarring, her crash back to reality; the hard-plastic seat underneath her, the vibration of the rumbling bus beneath her soles, and the inquisitive gaze of the driver turned in his seat was a far cry from the pretty pictures she’d painted in her head.

She realized, then, that he was speaking to her – the only other occupants of the bus were huddled together in the back, sharing a pair of earbuds as they gazed down at a tablet. Blinking, she leaned forward in her seat, offering him a sheepish smile. She couldn’t tell if he was an Android or a human, though she couldn’t help wondering. It wasn’t as if it would make a difference, either way. Ever since the Androids had been granted their equal rights nearly a year prior, and allowed to shed their identifying LEDs at will, they were expected to be treated the same. And it wasn’t something Diem had a problem doing – especially with, all things considered, her background. But she was a far cry from home, where they hadn’t housed near as many Androids as Detroit. She couldn’t help her curiosity. 

“This is your stop,” he politely reminded her, and belatedly she realized that he was right. The journey had gone much quicker than she’d anticipated, but maybe that was due to the fact that she’d zoned out the entire time. 

She slung her dark duffel bag over one shoulder and the strap of her backpack over the other, standing and pausing briefly to stretch her legs before striding down the aisle. The driver watched as she approached, and when she thanked him as she passed, he offered a nod in return. 

Diem hadn’t really needed to take the bus. Her hometown of Lansing was only an hour and a half’s drive from Detroit, but after the constant back-and-forth she’d done over the previous months to move her things from one apartment to another, she’d grown tired of making the trip. She’d left her car at her new residence a few days before, caught a ride back to her hometown to gather the small remainder of her things, and opted on a bus ride home. It had given her time to collect her thoughts as she’d watched the miles fly by outside of the large windows. 

The air was cool and crisp when Diem stepped off of the bus, pausing before the station. Summer had finally relinquished full control to autumn, all traces of warmth bled away, so she tugged the zipper of her worn black jacket a little higher, covering more of the pale pink tanktop underneath. Even though it was a quarter past nine, the streets of Detroit were still notoriously busy. The honking of horns, the whoosh of traffic passing behind her, the press of bodies moving along the sidewalk…those were all things she’d experienced in Lansing, but not quite to the same scale.

“ _There’s_ my lovely lady.” The voice was deep and familiar, and she couldn’t help but grin as a pair of arms wrapped around her waist, turning Diem to face the man standing behind her. She reached up on her tiptoes to plant a quick kiss on his smirking lips, before rocking back onto her heels and squinting at him.

“You got a haircut while I was gone,” she pointed out, before adding, “I like it.”

“Had to look good for you tonight, didn’t I?” Gavin asked, moving to grab both of Diem’s bags from her shoulders. She attempted to swat him away, but he offered a roguish wink as he ignored her. “I left the car running, heat blaring. Figured you’d be cold.”

“You know me so well,” she quipped as she followed him to the car in question, an older matte black Camaro rumbling quietly on the corner. As Gavin worked on storing her bags in the trunk, she slid into the leather embrace of the passenger seat, humming under her breath when she found that he was telling the truth – the car was nice and warm. 

A moment later he joined her, settling into the driver’s seat. He wasted little time in pulling away from the sidewalk, just as Diem wasted little time fiddling with the radio, deciding on a pop-ish melody a few moments later.

“How’s Poppy?” She blurted then, unable to help herself. To her relief, Gavin just laughed.

“It’s been three days; your bird is fine. Loud as fuck in the mornings, but fine.” 

She nodded but said nothing, relieved. It wasn’t that she didn’t trust Gavin with Poppy; he wasn’t the biggest pet person, but he knew how much she adored the quirky pink cockatoo. She’d been with Diem for four years now, taken in to fill the loneliness of her old apartment where dogs and cats hadn’t been accepted. 

“How was your bus ride?” Gavin asked in return, drawing Diem out of her thoughts. His furrowed brow made it crystal clear what he thought about her choice of transportation. He’d been baffled by her refusal to allow him to take off work early and pick her up from Lansing, though he’d reluctantly stopped badgering her over it after several days. 

“It really wasn’t that bad. Are you still pouting that I wouldn’t let you come get me?”

“Well, yeah. Makes no sense to me.”

“I just want to make a good first impression. Come on, can you blame me?” Diem twisted in her seat to gaze at him, watching the way the passing city lights played with the shading of his hair, shading the dark brown strands a kaleidoscope of neon colors. “You got me this transfer, and the last thing I want is you leaving work early to chauffeur me around the day before I start. Captain Fowler would hate me already.”

“Dee, he wouldn’t hate you. Did you really let his tough-shit act get to you? I told you, he’s not that much of a hardass. Besides, I might have _conveniently vouched_ for your transfer when the position opened, but he hired you because he’s impressed by you.” Gavin paused, before offering her his signature smile. “And because you’re hot as hell.”

“Gavin,” she exhaled his name on a sigh, though she was admittedly struggling not to let her mouth twist into a smile of her own.

“I mean it. You’ll be the best lookin’ thing we have around the precinct, excluding myself.” The last part was half-joking, she thought. Gavin’s arrogance wasn’t exactly a secret, but it tended to be…charming, in small doses. “And we could always use more humans.”

The last part was very clearly _not_ a joke, and she arched a brow at him, extending her arm to rest her hand on his knee. “You act like the place is swarming with Android’s. It’s still just…what’s-his-name? Connor, right?”

“Plastic prick,” Gavin murmured under his breath, and she huffed out a nervous laugh. ‘Plastic prick’ certainly couldn’t be right, but she took it as confirmation. Gavin had never been on positive terms with the Android who’d been hired to assist in the investigation of deviants months prior, and she doubted that he ever would be. She could still vividly recall his ire when he’d called several months back, ranting over Captain Fowler’s decision to hire the Android detective permanently. Something about Gavin's undiluted rage when it came to the non-human models was...concerning, truly. But Diem had brushed it off, hoping against all odds that it was simply _Connor_ he disliked - for whatever reason. That, however, was a bridge their still-budding relationship hadn't crossed yet. 

“There are a few others that work in different departments, but this one is just…I’m telling you, Diem, he’s infuriating,” Gavin was saying, his fingers drumming agitatedly against the steering wheel. “You’ll see tomorrow. Anyways, I don’t wanna talk about Robocop. All set for the big day?”

“Yep. Can’t be much different from Lansing, if you exclude the fact that there’s over six times the population…” She trailed off, sighing as she lifted her unoccupied hand to run her fingers through her hair. It was an old habit from the days when it was much longer and still able to conceal half of her face, as if she could hide behind the silky curtain. But that was impossible now, and regardless, no nervous tic could ever ease the way her heart seemed to lodge firmly in her throat. “I’m nervous.” 

“Don’t be, babe. Seriously, you’ll do fine. Sure you don’t wanna sleep over and catch a ride with me in the morning? ”

They were stopped at a light, and he tilted his head back against his seat, glancing at her slyly from the corner of his eye. She knew the devious glint in his gaze well enough, and she was tempted to give in and spend the night curled up at his apartment, watching old movies and chowing down on takeout to destress, before seeing where the night took them. 

But she couldn’t.

“Not tonight. I need to get a few more things settled at the new place, and then I have to prepare for tomorrow.”

Diem didn’t miss his quiet scoff, but he didn’t press as the light flickered to green and he accelerated. “Suit yourself. But you owe me a date this weekend.”

“Deal. Dinner and drinks.”

“Dinner and drinks,” Gavin echoed with a bob of his head, the irritation melting away from his features. The rest of the ride was spent in relative normalcy, the silence filled by either idle chatter or one of them singing along to the radio. When they finally pulled into the parking lot nestled beside Diem’s new apartment building, she was pleasantly warm and drowsy, half-curled over the center console with her head bumping against Gavin’s shoulder. 

“Am I gonna have to carry you in?” He asked as he shifted the car into park, though there was nothing harmful in his voice. Rather, he sounded almost playful, his fingers lifting to tug at the strands of her hair, his pinky brushing her collarbone. 

“Me? Nah. My stuff? I won’t object to that.”

“Hey, weren’t you the one smacking me back at the station for grabbing your bags?”

She unfolded from her comfortable position, feigning ignorance as she tilted her head and wrinkled her nose in his direction. “You know, I don’t recall.”

“Brat.” Gavin huffed out a raspy chuckle as he turned the car off, pushing open his door. “Come on, princess.”

It was impossible to conceal her smile as Diem opened the door to slide from the car, pausing to stretch as Gavin removed her bags from the trunk. As he moved towards her, Diem glanced at the building that would now be considered her home. It was a towering, twenty-story brick structure, painted a clean ivory color and dotted with numerous windows and balconies overlooking the city. There were various boutiques and restaurants lining the street around it, and the surrounding neighborhood wasn’t terrible, especially for the price of the place.

She trailed after Gavin as he strode towards the building, breathing a sigh of relief when they stepped into the warm lobby. The receptionist, a friendly, bubbly blonde, smiled in recognition as they passed her, and Diem gave a little wave before pressing the elevator call button just past the front desk. 

Mercifully, it didn’t take long for it to arrive, the doors opening with a cheery ding. She stepped inside and Gavin followed, plopping her bags on the floor as she pressed the button for the 11th floor. The doors slid closed, the elevator jolted into motion, and she had only a moment before she felt Gavin’s arms envelop her, his face nuzzling into the side of her neck beneath the strands of her hair. The feeling of his stubble scratching at her skin made her laugh, but a moment later the noise died in her throat as he pressed a kiss just beneath Diem’s jaw.

“I’m _really_ glad you’ll be much closer now,” he murmured, and she sighed in both agreement and contentment. “No more long drives just to see your pretty face.”

“You saw it plenty over video calls, too,” Diem pointed out. “But I much prefer you in person.”

“Why, because I can do this?” His hands slid from her hips to the back of her thighs and _up_ , cupping her backside firmly. She laughed and twisted the top half of her body to swat at him, trying – and failing – to ignore the way butterflies were rioting in her stomach.

“Down, boy. There will be plenty of time for that later. Just another added benefit of me living so close, hm?”

“A very…” here he paused to give Diem’s rear another pointed squeeze, “…large benefit.” 

She couldn’t contain the roll of her eyes, though clearly Gavin thought very highly of his play on words, grinning roguishly when he released her and stepped back. Diem had always adored that goofy smile – it made the skin around his eyes crinkle and tugged gently at the scar slashing across his nose. She lifted a hand to run her index finger along the length of it, as she’d become fond of doing.

“Remember when I first told you the story behind it?” Gavin asked suddenly, and Diem nodded.

“Of course I do. I was so furious – “

“ – that the waitress kept coming over to check if we were arguing,” Gavin finished, chuckling. “Bus-boys were taking bets on which one of us would storm out first.”

“Well, I didn’t mean for it to seem like I was angry with _you_. It’s just – god, who does that?” She frowned, twisting her hands as she recalled Gavin’s recollection of the story: a call from neighbors for a possible domestic violence case, a battered woman pretending to be afraid to garner his sympathy, a vicious slash of a knife the moment he’d dropped his guard, all so that the abusive scumbag she’d been protecting could make a run for it. It made Diem’s blood boil just thinking of it. 

“People are fuckin’ nuts,” Gavin replied with a nonchalant shrug, and from her time spent working for the Lansing Police Department, Diem could readily agree. But Detroit…how different would it be, she wondered? Her parents had been worried but resigned when she’d informed them of her transfer, perhaps having sensed that it had only been a matter of time. They’d seen one daughter whisked away to Detroit years prior, after all; Diem supposed they were at least glad that the two would be close. 

Reminded of her sister, she fished her phone from her pocket as the elevator approached the eleventh floor, infuriatingly slow in comparison to its swift arrival on the first. As she’d suspected, there were numerous texts and two missed calls – the texts from her mother and her friends, the calls from her sister. She returned the phone to her pocket after a moment, silently promising to return the communications when she was alone. 

At last the elevators slowed to a halt, doors sliding open to reveal a long stretch of hallway on either side of the landing, the floors a glossy hardwood and the walls a cheery peach. Diem stepped before Gavin as he hefted her bags again, before trailing her down the left side of the hall. They stopped before one of the dark-painted doors, and Diem couldn’t help but shoot Gavin a grin over her shoulder as she pointed at the numbers painted underneath the tiny ingrained security camera just beneath head-height. 

“Told you,” she quipped as she fished in her pocket for her keycard. “Apartment one-hundred-and-eleven, floor eleven. How cool is that?”

“The smallest things make you happy, Dee,” Gavin responded with a chuckle as Diem swiped the card against the electronic-locking mechanism mounted upon the door. “Not that I’m complainin’. Makes my job as ‘boyfriend’ a hell of a lot easier.” 

Diem offered only a rogue grin over her shoulder before the door clicked open, and she pushed it inwards, stepping inside to hold it for Gavin. Once he was across the threshold, she allowed it to quietly fall shut, before turning to survey her apartment with hands on her hips. It was just as she left it, but still so foreign, so new. It was a futuristic, modern design, as she’d found was common in Detroit now. The walls were painted a crisp white, aside from the dark gray, wood-paneled backsplash in the kitchen. The kitchenette consisted of a refrigerator disguised as a cabinet, bright, cheery hanging lights over the smooth granite counter-tops (complete with high stools to make up for the lack of dining table), and sleek, updated appliances.

Her favorite room, however, was the one that greeted her the moment she’d stepped through the door: the living room. The walls were white as well, save for the entire stretch of one wall that instead matches the dark, wooden kitchen paneling. It was on that wall that the ultra-thin television screen was housed. Besides that, the room was simple in furnishing: a tan sofa in the middle of the room with fluffy pillows covering its surface, a glass coffee table arranged in varying circular shapes, an armchair tucked in the corner, partially concealing a filled bookcase…and then, nestled before the floor-to-ceiling windowpanes covered by semi-sheer white curtains, was her gleaming ebony piano.

It had been a true beast to transport from Lansing and maneuver into the apartment. She’d had to recruit all of her male coworkers from the Lansing department, as well as Gavin, to achieve it. But there had been no question of leaving it behind. And as she stood observing it now, complimented by a sleek, sprawling bird cage just behind the stool, Diem couldn’t help but smile. There had been times during her childhood where her parent’s house had seemed so _dark_ and smothering, filled by heavy silences and worried glances from her mother that Diem had pretended not to notice. It was during those periods that she’d learned to fill the quiet with noise from the piano, her deft fingers weaving together tinkling melodies or haunting ballads. For just a moment, just a heartbeat, she would allow herself to get lost in the music and the movements of her hands, until the things that plagued her mind momentarily fell away. Even still, when she was stressed or sad or even overjoyed, Diem found herself radiating towards her piano.

“Where do you want these?” Gavin asked, hefting her bags and drawing Diem out of her thoughts as she gestured towards the couch with a wave of her hand.

“Just there is fine. I’ll go through them later and get everything sorted out.”

He obliged before straightening with a little groan, hand moving to massage at his lower back. “Fucks sake, Dee, what do you have in those? Bricks?”

She whirled, mouth opening to offer an apology – but then she paused, noting the devious smirk that pulled at his mouth. “You,” she declared with a huff, “are an ass.”

“Gotta give you a hard time, doll. In one way or another.” Gavin grinned as he made his way around the sofa, boots thumping noisily against the hardwood floors as he approached Diem to fold her into his arms. She sighed, offering no resistance as she molded her diminutive frame against his, her head tucked against his chest. “I’ll let you get everything sorted out, yeah? Just make sure to get some actual sleep tonight.”

Diem took a single step back – just enough to tilt her head up, her lips brushing against Gavin’s, his stubble tickling the skin of her face. When the two broke apart, it was reluctantly, and she smiled up at him gratefully.

“Thanks for…everything, Gav. Seriously.”

“’Course.” His own smile made Diem’s heart warm, and when he stepped away to move towards the door, she was sad to see him go. “I’ll see you in the morning, bright and early. And afterwards, I’ll bring Poppy by. Alright?”

“Alright. Goodnight, Gavin.”

“Night, Dee.” He paused to cast one final glance at her over his shoulder before he was gone, the door clicking shut and locking behind him. For a moment, Diem didn’t move; she stood with her arms folded across her chest, staring at the place he’d once been, until her cheeks ached and she forced herself into movement.

With one hand, she withdrew her phone from her pocket, already scrolling through her missed call list as her other hand grabbed at the straps of her bags, dragging them across the floor into her bedroom. Unlike the rest of the apartment, the floors were blanketed in plush off-white carpet there, with her queen-sized bed taking up a decent portion of the room. Curtain-veiled windows took up the majority of one wall, the other dominated by a low, chic dresser and vanity duo. 

Diem cradled her phone between her head and shoulder as she knelt before her dresser, unzipping her bags and rifling through the clothes contained there. It didn’t take her sister very long to answer – it never did.

“ _Diem._ ” Leah’s voice was as loud and boisterous as always, making Diem wince. “It’s about time you called back. How was the trip?”

“Unremarkable,” Diem replied as she set to work folding and organizing the remainder of her things. “Gavin just left, and I’m finishing putting everything away. I have an early day tomorrow, but I wanted to call and let you know I made it.”

“I appreciate it.” There was the sound of glass clinking in the background as Leah paused, before surging ahead. “At least one of us will be getting some sleep tonight. I’m on my fourth glass of wine because I needed _something_ to distract me from all of this paperwork.”

“Having trouble with your speech?” Diem asked, finishing with one bag before starting on the next. “Come on, Leah, you’ve been doing this for years now. They’ll love it, like they always do.”

“ _Supporters_ will love it,” Leah pointed out with a scoff. “But you can’t deny the fact that most of the human race still isn’t terribly thrilled about Android Rights. They’ll push and shove and poke holes, I’ll make amendments, they’ll make demands, we’ll all refuse to budge and then…” She trailed off then, a heavy sigh sounding through the line. “Oh, it doesn’t matter; this isn’t what I called for. I just wanted to make sure you were alright, and to confirm lunch Wednesday afternoon.”

“Of course; I’ll be there. And look, don’t stress too much, okay? I know that probably sounds useless coming from me, but it won’t do you any good.”

“It’s miraculous that you always manage to be so level-headed,” Leah replied with a little laugh as Diem finished with her final bag. She stood, one hand going to cradle her phone as she stretched with the other, before plopping down on her bed. The mass of pillows and fluffy blankets cradled her, and she tilted her head back to gaze at the tiny white lights she’d weaved and strung across the railing of the bedframe above her. “Speaking of stress – how are you feeling about tomorrow? Excited? Nervous?”

“A bit of both,” Diem admitted, letting her eyes drift shut with a sigh. Her sister had always been the energetic, high-strung one, while Diem had been a calm, quiet child by nature. But she couldn’t deny the way her stomach curled and knotted when she thought about her first day at the Detroit Police Department. “Makes me feel like I’m getting ready for the first day of high school all over again. I’m too old for this.”

“Oh, hush, you’re not,” Leah declared, and something about the way her tone spiked in near-awe made Diem distinctly aware of what she was going to ask just seconds before she did. “Besides, you get to work with _the_ Connor. Co-leader of the Android rebellion, who marched with hundreds of newly awoken models to demand their freedom. How does it feel?”

“Well, terrifying when you put it like that,” Diem replied mildly.

“You have to promise to call me the moment you can and tell me what he’s really like,” Leah pressed. “I’ve met Markus, you know, but only fleetingly between adjournments in briefings and trials. But Connor…he’s always seemed like a bit of an enigma to me.”

“What kind of sister would I be if I didn’t spill the beans?” Diem asked, unable to stop her lips from curling. “You live for this shit, after all.”

“Quite literally.” This was accompanied by a huff, and the sound of what Diem imagined was Leah gently assaulting her laptop with the palm of her hand. “Alright, alright, I’ll stop bugging you now. Get ready for tomorrow. And Diem?”

“Yeah?” 

“I love you. I’m glad you’re closer.”

Diem’s eyes drifted open at the familiar statement – once uttered by Gavin, and once by her sister. “Yeah, me too, Leah. I’ll talk to you tomorrow, okay?”

For a moment after she hung up, Diem remained sprawled across her bed, her phone clutched to her chest as she stared up at the ceiling. She needed to get up, shower, change into pajamas, and then curl under the blankets until she drifted off to sleep. She had a big day tomorrow, after all. But for a moment, she wanted to bask in the warmth that flooded her, suggesting that maybe, just maybe, everything would work out in Detroit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter will be a Connor POV ;D Where we'll discover MC's appearance, personality from his perspective, and Gavin being...well, Gavin.
> 
> Leave kudos or comment if you enjoyed! <3


	2. One Ornery Coffee Pot

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was very very worried about how I'd do writing from Connor's perspective...but to be honest, I had a blast doing it! :D

_I was choking in the crowd_  
_Building my rain up in the cloud_  
_Falling like ashes to the ground_  
_Hoping my feelings, they would drown_  
_But they never did, ever lived, ebbing and flowing_  
_Inhibited, limited_  
_Till it broke open and rained down_  


Twenty-six steps from Officer Collins desk to the restroom just around the corner from the bullpen, a trip he’d made twice already, likely due to his copious and slightly-concerning consumption of coffee.

Eight times that Officer Person had blown her nose in the last fifteen minutes, sniffling and nursing a cold.

Six minutes and forty-eight seconds since the light drizzle of rain outside had increased to a torrential downpour, pattering noisily against the windows. 

Five passes of the quarter across his knuckles before it was snatched from atop the digits. 

Connor paused, his gaze drawn from the screen in front of him as he blinked, taking in the sight of Hank leaning across his terminal. The grizzled Lieutenant held Connor’s stare for a beat, and the Android allowed himself a moment to quickly observe the man ( ** _scowling, clenched teeth, slightly elevated heartrate; suggestion: irritation_** ) before Hank unfurled his fist, the coin clattering onto the desk.

“It’s too fuckin’ early for your coin tricks,” huffed Hank as he dropped back into his chair. “Stop it.”

Connor didn’t take his behavior personally. It was simply Hank being _Hank_ , and Connor knew that a distinct lack of restful sleep and a general hatred for mornings were significant factors when it came to Hank Anderson’s mood. 

“Would you like a cup of coffee, Lieutenant?” Connor offered, plucking the quarter from the desk to slip it into his pocket. “Perhaps it will improve your mood.” 

Though the look that Hank shot Connor was outwardly hostile, Connor could not resist letting his lips twitch faintly, the barest hint of a smile. Hank didn’t miss the movement, and whatever he’d been about to say – likely some variation of informing Connor where he could stick his cup of coffee – he seemed to reconsider. With a sigh, Hank lifted a hand to run his fingers through his silvery hair, shrugging. “Sure, why the hell not. I can get it myself, though.”

“No need. Finish the case file you’re working on; I’m more than happy to get it for you.” Before Hank could protest, Connor stood, lifting his hands to instinctively straighten his tie. He would have been surprised if Collins hadn’t finished the pot already, and the machine wasn’t exactly known for reliably dispensing coffee, sometimes seeming to decide to stage small caffeine rebellions. On more than one occasion, Connor had witnessed Hank assaulting the defiant coffee maker; dealing with it today would _not_ improve his mood. 

Hank silently watched him for a moment, his blue eyes lit with scarcely veiled amusement before he threw up one of his hands in surrender. “Alright, have it your way. Thanks, Connor.”

“Of course, Lieutenant,” replied Connor, already turning to move towards the breakroom. But this time, he couldn’t quite hide his crooked half-smirk when the man reminded him for perhaps the hundredth time to call him ‘Hank’. It had been a strange concept to Connor, at first – not necessarily calling the man Hank, for he’d done that previously, even before he’d deviated on several occasions. Most notably had been the time he’d been pumping thirium onto the floors of the Stratford tower, dragging his rapidly failing form towards his pump where it’d been torn from his chest and discarded on the ground.

 _”Hank,”_ he’d wheezed desperately. _”I need help.”_

What had been particularly _strange_ , Connor recalled with a shake of his head to clear that gruesome memory, had been their budding friendship morphing into something…else. They were, he supposed the word he was searching for was, family. Hank had uttered it several weeks ago, when he’d been crouched on the floor beside Connor in his – no, _their_ \- house, coaching him through another one of his “identity crisis’s.” It had calmed Connor, in that moment, to know that he had Hank. And Sumo, of course, who hadn’t hesitated to bestow a slobbery kiss upon Connor’s prone form.

The process of deviation had not gone as simply for Connor as it had for others. Some Androids took to it like a duck to water, embracing their new sentience along with the lives they were now free to lead. But Connor…well, he still struggled with it, on most days. Struggled with his emotions, his ability to think and make decisions for himself, and with learning how to deal with some of the decisions he’d made _before_. They haunted him sometimes, like rogue lines of code hidden somewhere deep within him, somewhere he could not reach to rectify. 

Hank called them “ghosts”.

Connor found himself frowning and fiddling with his sleeves as he drew himself from the deep confines of his memories, stepping through the doors of the break room. To his immediate displeasure, he was greeted by the sight of Gavin Reed standing before the microwave, his back to Connor as he waited for the telltale chime. He was mid-discussion with Officer Tina Chen, who was seated at one of the tables, her eyes glued to her phone.

“…so just shut the fuck up, Chen,” Gavin was growling, though Connor noted it was with considerably less hostility than when Gavin spoke to him. “I’m running on two hours of sleep with a migraine straight from hell.”

“Oh, now it makes sense. You didn’t get your beauty sleep,” Tina quipped as Connor made his way towards the coffee machine opposite of where Gavin was positioned. As he’d anticipated, none remained. “That overgrown chicken still giving you trouble?”

“It wouldn’t stop squawking – I dunno, maybe it knows Diem is back or something. I’ll be glad to give the damned thing to her after work. No idea why she even likes the noisy animal.”

“You say that, but weren’t you the one that admitted to feeding the stray cat behind your place a few weeks ago?” 

“Hey, the cat is _pregnant_ , and no one else is taking care of her,” Gavin retorted as the microwave chimed, something strange in his voice. **_Defensiveness,_** Connor’s voice analysis software informed him. “Regardless of the bird, I’m glad Fowler approved Diem’s transfer. She should be here any – “

His voice stopped abruptly, a heavy silence settling over the room. Connor did not need to turn to know that Gavin had most likely spotted him at last. Instead he busied himself with scooping coffee grounds into the brew basket after replacing the filter, and filling the machine with water. The silence lasted for the duration of this, and up until the moment when Connor began attempting to negotiate a truce with the ornery machine, prodding at it far more gently than most with his fingers.

“Didn’t think you plastic fucks could _drink_ now, too,” came Gavin’s usual derisive snarl, followed shortly by an add-on quip that Connor had been anticipating. “Or is that for your, uh, partner? Lemme guess, Anderson’s hungover and needs the caffeine? What a surprise.”

Connor frowned, tempted to inform Gavin that Hank had not been consuming nearly as much alcoholic beverages as of late – but that was not his business, and Connor doubted that he would care. So instead he said nothing as the coffee pot spluttered and finally gave in to his demands.

“You deaf now? Didn’t think you could get much more worthless, Robocop.” 

At last, Connor allowed himself to turn, his gaze sliding across Gavin, who was standing beside the table Tina was seated at. Tina was pointedly not making eye-contact with either of them, seeming content to silently browse through her phone.

“No, Detective Reed. I simply didn’t think that your question warranted a response. It seemed rhetorical.” Connor’s brows raised slightly, noting the change in temperature that always seemed to occur within Gavin whenever Connor was near. He still hadn’t the faintest clue as to why Gavin seemed to despise him so very much, though the tension between the pair of them before Androids had been granted equal rights certainly could not have helped. Hank, whenever Connor would ask, surmised that Gavin was “just an asshole, plain and simple”. 

Gavin’s lip curled as if he were a dog bristling, moments away from snapping or fleeing – and in Gavin’s case, when it came to Connor, the option was always _snap_. Connor tracked the man’s movements with his gaze as Gavin prowled forward, Connor’s flashing indicators monitoring his increased heart rate, his raise in blood pressure.

“You getting smart with me?” Gavin asked, voice low, and before Connor could answer, his mouth opened again. “Because if you are – “

This time, it was Tina who interrupted the tense moment between the two as she turned in her chair, craning her neck. “Hey! Gavin! Is that her?”

There was a moment where Gavin continued to hold his gaze, and Connor wondered – not for the first time – if their encounter would result in violence. Before he’d deviated, Gavin hadn’t hesitated to push Connor at every turn, even physically driving his fist into the area just beneath Connor’s thirium pump once. He had tried nothing similar since, perhaps due to Captain Fowler’s warnings, or perhaps because he suspected that Connor would not simply take the assault now that he was free. If that were the case, then he was correct; Connor had no intention of allowing Gavin to steamroll over him anymore. 

It seemed as if he would not step over the line now, however. Instead, he aimed a particularly nasty scowl in Connor’s direction before turning to look towards where Tina was pointing. And then, Connor noted that the most curious thing happened.

Gavin Reed’s expression softened into one that Connor had not seen before, an almost _sheepish_ grin tugging at his mouth when Tina noticed the same thing. Though Connor had partially turned to begin pouring the now-completed coffee into a cup, his eyes remained on Gavin, whom he swiftly scanned after only a moment of hesitation.

**_Resting heart rate decreasing. Levels: optimal. 84 beats per minute._ **  
**_Blood pressure stabilizing - 118/80._ **  
**_Dopamine levels increasing._ **

Strange. He could not quite see what, or who, it was that the pair of them watched from his vantage point. Deciding that it would be best to remove himself from the room before Gavin’s ire returned, Connor clutched the cup of coffee in one hand as he pivoted on his heel and strode from the room. Stepping into the bullpen, his gaze swept the maze of desks, but he saw nothing unusual, nor anyone out of the ordinary.

His brows were pinched together when he returned to his desk, offering the cup to Hank, who took it without glancing up from the screen before him. He did, however, mutter another quiet ‘thanks’, to which Connor responded with a swift nod. 

Approximately two minutes and twenty-three seconds passed before Hank at last straightened, leaning back in his chair with a little groan. “Fuckin’ finally,” he mumbled, lifting the coffee to take a cautious sip. Connor did not bother to stop him; by his estimate, the coffee’d had ample time to cool. “I hate paperwork.”

“I offered to do it for you,” Connor pointed out. “When I was doing the rest of the reports. It takes only a moment for me.”

“Yeah, yeah, don’t remind me, show-off. I’m not stickin’ you with all of it.” Hank took another generous gulp of coffee before his gaze slid towards a point behind Connor, his grey eyebrows raising. “See our new recruit?”

Connor partially twisted in his chair, eyes following Hank’s gaze to Captain Fowler’s glass-walled office. The Captain himself was seated behind his desk, hands steepled upon it as he spoke to someone sitting in the chair across from him. From his vantage point, Connor could only see a set of narrow shoulders clad in a plaid shirt, and short, brunette hair. Was she the one that had seemingly brought Gavin to heel, he wondered?

“I believe that Detective Reed and Officer Chen were discussing her in the break room when she arrived,” he informed Hank, having pieced together the bits of conversation he’d overheard. He turned to face Hank once more, catching his partner mid-eyeroll, likely due to the mention of Gavin. “I think that she and Detective Reed may be familiar with one another.”

“Great. Let’s just hope she’s not like him. I can’t take two of them. Did Reed give you problems?” 

Connor was silent for a fraction of a second, flickering between his two options – the truth, or a lie. “Briefly. It’s nothing that warrants concern.”

“Like hell it doesn’t,” Hank growled, sitting forward abruptly and nearly sloshing coffee across his shirt. “I’m sick and tired of that bastard – “

“Lieutenant Anderson, you and your partner in my office.” That was Fowler’s voice ringing out behind Connor, making him turn. “Now.”

Interesting. 

Connor was much swifter in standing than Hank, who audibly groaned and muttered several choice words under his breath that Connor might not have heard, had he been human. When at last the Lieutenant was on his feet, Connor trailed him into the Captain’s office, his gaze snapping to the sole unfamiliar person in the room as the door closed behind them.

As Hank settled into the free chair and Connor stopped behind him, the Android swept his gaze across the woman. She’d turned as they entered, and for a moment her eyes lingered on Hank, before rising to meet Connor’s stare. She was pale of complexion, with her hair styled into a bob that ended a bit beneath her chin, the ends curling slightly inwards towards her neck. Her eyes were doe-like and brown – but a deeper brown than Connor’s, so dark that they appeared almost black. They were veiled by contacts, something that Connor’s ensuring facial recognition scan informed him, suggesting a case of mild astigmatism.

_**Nash, Diem** _  
_**Born: 11/3/2009 // Detective** _  
_**Criminal Record: None** _

A moment after his scan had finished, he performed another, albeit of a differing nature.

 _ **Resting heart rate: elevated. 120 beats per minute.**_  
_**Blood pressure: elevated. 132/80. Hypertension? Negative; temporary spike.**_  
_**Additional information: accelerated breathing, hypervigilance.**_  
_**Suggestion: nervous.**_

He blinked once the scan had completed, noting her anxiety and filing it away under what little he knew of her. She was still staring at him, her brows slightly furrowed, her head tilted just so. After a beat, she smiled. The movement was swift, fleeting, but…sincere. 

“This is Lieutenant Hank Anderson of the Detroit Police Department, and his partner, Detective Connor. This is Detective Diem Nash,” said Fowler, gesturing to each person in turn. “I wanted to be the first to formally introduce you all to one another, considering Detective Nash will be working with the Department of Android-Human Affairs alongside you both.” 

There was approximately five-point-four seconds of total and complete silence, in which Connor’s gaze flitted from Fowler to Diem, one brow raising just so.

And then, without nearly enough warning for Connor to prevent it, Hank exploded out of his chair, the torrent of curses that fell from his lips _almost_ impressive in intensity.


	3. No Time to Waste

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one was a bit longer than I intended it to be, but I just had so much fun writing it!

_I fled to the city with so much discounted_  
_Ah, but I'm flying like a bird to you now_  
_Back to the hedgerows where bodies are mounted_  
_Ah, but I'm flying like a bird to you now_

Diem woke the next morning running on considerably less sleep than she would have liked, having spent most of the night tossing and turning, anxious for her upcoming first day. Still, she was fueled by a potent mixture of nervous energy and caffeine from her morning cup of tea as she went through her usual motions of readying herself.

The only part of her routine that was missing was Poppy; she usually spent a small portion of her time curled on her sofa in her pajamas, sipping her beverage and listening to the cockatoo whistle and sing brightly. It was something that Diem found she missed dearly as she was instead occupied by the chatter of the news. It was terribly dreary, however – talk of ongoing negotiations for further Android rights, discussion of the worsening situation with Russia, concern over the growing list of extinct animals – and she flipped the television off halfway through her mug of Peppermint tea. 

A warm shower followed immediately, where she washed and combed through her short hair, scrubbed her skin until it was pink with her favorite strawberry-scented soap, and wrapped herself in a plush bath towel afterwards. Her outfits for her occupation varied only slightly, her usual jeans paired with whatever work-appropriate top caught her fancy. That morning, she chose a red and black long-sleeved flannel buttoned neatly and completely over a black tank top, her black combat boots ending just beneath her calves, effectively hiding her mismatched socks. 

Though she loathed the process of applying them, she swapped her large round glasses for contacts, parted her hair so that the right side of her bob fell just short of the corner of her eye, and looped her familiar silver neck chain over her head. Though the attached leather holder was currently lacking a badge, it wouldn’t remain lackluster and light for long.

She didn’t bother with makeup, instead slipping a pair of diamond studs into her ears to complete the ensemble. A cursory check of her purse followed; headache medication? Check. Keys – both house and car? Check. Wallet, including ID? Check. Hair ties? Check. Back-up glasses, just in case? Check. 

And that was the last of it. No longer able to stall, Diem swiped an apple from her refrigerator, sucked in a deep breath, and slipped out of her apartment. She checked that it was locked behind her before taking the elevator to the main floor, where the receptionist (different from the night before – this one a dark-skinned male) greeted her warmly. She smiled as she passed him before pressing out into the chilly morning. 

Detroit was, of course, wide awake. She was greeted by a cacophony of life, cars honking and people muttering into their phones as they passed. She tucked her purse against her side, fishing her car keys out of it as she cut across the apartment parking lot, ignoring the tantalizing scent of something warm and baked wafting around the corner. 

She found her car easily, offering a small smile at the sight of it. A large portion of Detroit, like Lansing, had come to rely on automatic cars that were essentially personal taxis. She, however, favored her manual Infiniti Q70, stark white in coloration with dark tinted windows. It gave a cheery beep as she unlocked it, sliding into the leather interior and settling her things in the passenger seat. Then, sucking in a deep breath, she started the car, clicked her seatbelt on, and eased out of the parking lot onto the busy streets of Detroit.

The station wasn’t far from her apartment – fifteen minutes, on a good day of traffic. Halfway there, the clouds lingering above the city opened, releasing a smattering of rain drops. By the time she pulled into the parking garage, it had increased to a steady torrent, and she was running through her list of affirmations in her head, trying to calm her nerves.

_This isn’t your first rodeo. You were a fantastic Detective in Lansing, and Fowler obviously thought highly of you to hire you. You’re adorable, you’re badass, you’re strong. You’ll have Gavin, and you’ll make friends. It will all be alright._

She gathered her things after parking beside Gavin’s familiar black Camaro, turning her car off and sliding out as she slipped her keys into her purse. She was five minutes early, a glance at her phone told her, but it was always better to be early than late on the first day. 

Her boots thumped dully against the pavement as she approached the doors of the precinct, pulling them open to step inside. She was greeted by a burst of cool air, a crisp interior, and a steady flow of moving bodies – some dressed in uniform, others in plain clothes.

“Good morning, and welcome to the Detroit Police Department,” chirped a cheery voice, drawing Diem’s gaze to a young woman seated behind the receptionist’s desk. “How may I help you today?”

“Yes, hi,” Diem started, pausing to clear her throat as she moved to place one palm on the desk. “My name is Diem Nash. I have an appointment with Captain Fowler.”

“Of course.” There was a notable pause then as the woman smiled, tilting her head before continuing. “I’ve just confirmed your appointment with Captain Fowler and he’ll see you now. Just continue through those doors there, and his office is hard to miss. Large, and completely enclosed in glass.”

It was the first time since her arrival in Detroit that Diem had been _certain_ she’d encountered an Android. The young woman was lovely, with clear skin and bright blue eyes that squinted just slightly when she smiled. Without fully realizing it, Diem had offered her own wide smile in return, some of her anxiety momentarily relieved by the measure of kindness she’d been shown by the receptionist. It reminded her of something her mother had constantly told she and Leah in their childhood: _”Be kind, girls. You never know how much a simple smile or a polite word might help someone.”_

Shuffling out of the way of the desk, Diem adjusted the strap of her bag on her shoulder and proceeded through the indicated doors, pausing when she found herself in a familiar setting: the bullpen. There were desks placed throughout the large room, some empty but the majority filled by officers and Detectives in various states of work – some chattering into their phones, some taking statements from people perched across from them, and some gulping down coffee as if it alone would get them through the next twenty-four hours. 

It was…familiar. Larger than Lansing’s bullpen, but a comparable setting, to be sure. With time, she would know each person’s name as she had at her previous department, perhaps even befriending a few of them.

As the receptionist had assured her, Diem found it impossible to miss the glass-walled office at the other end of the bullpen, the door propped ajar. She made a b-line for it, glancing subtly at desks as she passed. She couldn’t immediately spot Gavin, though she did eventually spy his name engraved on a desk plate, his chair empty. 

As she moved, she was distinctly aware of the curious stares aimed in her direction, though she did not return them, instead lifting a hand to tuck her hair behind one ear. It revealed more of her face, allowed the watching parties to get a better look at her. It was her way of silently proving to herself that her days of hiding behind her curtain of hair were gone for good; she could no longer be afraid to be seen.

She came to a halt before the door, rapping her knuckles against the doorframe. From inside, a man she knew to be Jeffrey Fowler from her previous research paused and glanced up from his computer, his gaze taking her in. Diem straightened, shoulders rolling back and chin tilting upwards, and the Captain stood, gesturing her inside. 

“Good morning, Detective Nash. Please close the door behind you.”

She complied, letting it slip closed with a soft click before moving towards Fowler’s desk. He extended a large palm, which Diem shook readily, her own grip nearly as firm as his despite the way his hand dwarfed hers. His lips twitched, hinting at a smile before it slid away, and he released her hand to gesture to the chairs situated across from his desk.

She sat, and he followed suite on the other side, saying nothing as his fingers danced across his keyboard. From her vantage point, Diem recognized her own resume as well as several other files when they flicked across the screen.

“Due to your approved transfer and exemplary record with the Lansing Police Department, I won’t bore you or waste my time by highlighting your duties and what’s expected of you here. It’s indicated that you’ve had little to no disciplinary action taken against you during your time with the LPD, and I expect that streak to continue here. Are we clear?”

“Crystal, Captain,” Diem replied with a bob of her head. 

“Excellent. The DPD handles quite a bit more cases than Lansing, which is to be expected with our higher population, though I assume that’s something you can handle. We dealt with a shitstorm last year during the Android Uprising, and things have calmed down, though not nearly enough for my liking. Regardless, we’ve implemented a new division that deals with Android-on-Human crime and vice-versa. The Department of Android-Human Affairs, as we call it, or DAHA, for short. There are two other detectives that you’ll be working closely with on related cases. I assumed you’d be an excellent fit for this department, due to your background and close familial ties with the situation.” 

Diem blinked, feeling the color rise in her cheeks as Fowler peered at her over the top of his thin dual monitors. She’d figured, of course, that her ties to Leah would be noted and mentioned when it had been included within her files. Her colleagues at the LPD had known – she hadn’t exactly kept it a secret. But here, now…for some reason, Diem wanted to keep the information close, to only reveal it when she saw fit. She was not ashamed of Leah, not in the least, but…she wanted to make a name for _herself_ , and not automatically be recognized as the younger sister of an influential Android Activist and President of a prominent organization founded to defend Artificial Intelligence rights. 

“Understood, Captain. However, I’d like to request that the information regarding my history with Leah Mandel be kept on a strictly need-to-know basis.” His brows skyrocketed at that, so Diem added a respectful, “Sir.”

“Do you have a particular problem with being associated with an Android activist, Detective? Perhaps I should rethink your placement – “

“No, no,” Diem hurried to clarify, lifting her palms. “It’s not that. I don’t have any problems with Androids. I just…feel like it would carry a lot more weight here than in Lansing. And Gavin…”

She trailed off, but something shifted on Fowler’s face as he nodded.

“Understood. And since you mentioned Detective Reed, I assume I won’t be needing to lecture you on the importance of work-appropriate behavior, either?”

Her pink cheeks had evolved into a full-on blush at this point as Diem shook her head. “No, sir. Work isn’t exactly the ideal environment to lock lips, anyways.”

For a moment, she was horrified over her quick quip, but Fowler’s stormy expression lightened several shades, and he chuckled as he stood. She let out a soft breath of relief as he moved to the door, pulling it open to stick his head out, his booming voice echoing through the bullpen. “Lieutenant Anderson, you and your partner in my office. Now.”

So it seemed as if Fowler wouldn’t be wasting any time in introducing her to her partners. That was fine with Diem; it meant that she’d be able to dive head-first into work sooner. Her family and colleagues in Lansing had developed a habit of calling her a _work-a-holic_ , but Diem had never seen it as a bad thing. She loved nothing more than to allow herself to get lost in puzzling over a case, her brain sorting out the details, shifting through them and filing them away until she was able to come up with a lead or a solution. That distinct rush of certainty and excitement when something clicked in her head, or when she came to a new conclusion…it was highly rewarding.

She glanced up, drawn from her thoughts as Fowler moved back into the room, followed by two others. To Diem’s surprise, the pair of them were immediately recognizable, both due to the parts they’d played during the deviant Uprising and following Android rebellion.

Hank Anderson looked just as pissed off as he always had in the pictures she’d seen, his expression disgruntled as he dropped into the chair beside Diem, brushing his gray hair away from his face. He glanced at her then, a swift movement of his blue eyes, and she blinked in return, studying him as he studied her. After a moment he glanced away to focus on Fowler, who was currently settling behind his desk again, so Diem allowed herself to focus on the second – and much more intriguing – party.

Connor stood straight and proper behind Hank’s chair, his hands folded in front of him as he observed her, much as she was observing him. His jacket was familiar, though it lacked the Android identifications she’d seen during the Uprising, as if he’d had an exact replica made, sans markings. His white shirt was impossibly crisp beneath his jacket, his tie straight and pinned neatly to his button-up. But although his attire no longer hinted as to what he was, Diem was notably surprised to see his LED still flickering on his temple. It seemed as if for some reason, he’d neglected to remove it like many other Androids had.

His skin was startlingly realistic, she found, creasing above his eyebrows as he furrowed them, and dotted with myriad freckles. His brown eyes had the appearance of warmth, and his entire expression radiated softness, as if he’d been _designed_ to seem trustworthy and gentle. But Diem had watched the events of the Uprising unfold, and she’d seen how his expression had sharped to one of blazing intensity when he’d lead the Androids from Cyberlife tower, all traces of serenity gone from the planes of his face. 

She realized, then, that she’d been staring at him for just as long as he’d been watching her. She blinked as if to physically clear her thoughts, allowing herself to offer a swift smile before she was turning away, attempting to get a hold of herself as she glanced towards Fowler.

“This is Lieutenant Hank Anderson of the Detroit Police Department, and his partner, Detective Connor. This is Detective Diem Nash. I wanted to be the first to formally introduce you all to one another, considering Detective Nash will be working with the Department of Android-Human Affairs alongside you both.”

There was a moment of silence when Fowler finished speaking that stretched for just a bit too long, and Diem was considering pointedly coughing when suddenly Hank Anderson jolted from his chair in a flurry of movement, making her jump and whirl towards him.

He was _furious_. 

“God-fucking-damn it, Fowler, I told you that we don’t fuckin’ need anyone else!” He swore, his expression like a thundercloud as he slapped his palms on Fowler’s desk. Diem’s spine went rigid, her fingers curling beneath the edges of her chair so hard that her knuckles went white. “Why don’t you ever listen to me? Connor and I are just _fine_ , and I don’t need another body to babysit. Bad enough you stuck me with this little shit.” Hank jerked his thumb towards Connor, who seemed entirely unaffected by the way that Hank was addressing him. Rather, the look that flickered across Connor’s expression as rapidly as his LED was now blinking yellow seemed to suggest affection. Strange.

“This isn’t negotiable, Anderson,” Fowler growled, and if Diem had been offended by Hank’s reaction, it was swiftly bleeding away. Fowler seemed noticeably irked and exasperated, as if he had long ago grown accustomed to similar reactions from Hank. “Detective Nash is more than capable of handling herself, and she has a phenomenal record. If anything, I have the feeling that _she’ll_ be babysitting _you_.”

“Like hell she will.” Hank’s expression was what Diem could only describe as murderous, and he pushed away from Fowler’s desk with a snarled string of curses that might have made her blush, had she not heard similar rants in the Lansing bullpen. “What makes her qualified to deal with Androids, anyways? Lemme guess – mommy and daddy bought one to raise her, they _”hired”_ it after they were freed, and now she thinks she knows how to deal with ‘em. Look, Jeffrey – “

Diem didn’t know what followed Hank’s usage of the Captain’s name, and she didn’t care. The stab of indignation and anger that rose within her was swift and unrelenting, and dimly she registered Connor shooting her a glance just moments before she spun in her chair, tilting her chin up to glare at Hank.

“Your assumptions regarding my history are ludicrous and unfounded, and I don’t appreciate them, Lieutenant.” The room went silent at that, Hank turning to shoot a stunned, incredulous stare in her direction. “My parents, since you seem so inclined to drag them into this conversation, never employed Androids, but I can assure you that my mother would have dragged me into the bathroom and washed my mouth out with soap if she’d ever heard me disrespecting one. You don’t have to like me, or like the fact that I was assigned to this department. That doesn’t matter. I’ve been hired to ensure that all Android-Human related crimes are investigated, solved, and treated to the best of my ability, and to the full extent of the law. I’ll be doing that regardless of what you think of me.” 

The silence stretched, and the two of them glared at one another for the majority of it, until at last Hank waved his hand at her with a grumbled exclamation that she didn’t quite catch. It seemed as if her outburst had drained a fraction of the fire from him, and she sucked in a quick breath as she turned, her gaze flitting across Connor. His expression was unabashaedly amused, to her surprise, his LED now a solid blue once more.

“If you two are done,” Fowler drawled, “I have entirely too many emails to respond to."

He reached down to pull open a drawer, and from within he extracted a handgun and badge. He slid both across the desk to Diem, watching as she checked the safety on the gun before proceeding to then slip her badge into the designated holder on her necklace. 

"You can find the other necessary items have been placed at your desk. Please show Detective Nash there, Lieutenant.”

Hank whirled and strode from the room at that, and Diem stood to move towards the door. Connor was already there, holding it open for her with a now blank expression. She nodded to him as she stepped past him, trailing Hank through the bullpen with the Android following on her heels.

The Lieutenant lead her to a trio of desks, one of them devoid of all decorations. The desk that she assumed to be Hank’s was cluttered with case files and documents, a half-empty box of donuts perched on the corner. There was a board propped on the desk to the right of his computer terminal, covered with stickers (some of them having been hurriedly peeled away) and sticky-notes, a baseball cap hung from one corner. 

The second desk, which Diem surmised was Connor’s, was neat and noticeably lacking in decoration, as well. It was not entirely empty, however; there was a tiny synthetic cactus in a simple white pot near his monitor, a geometric-styled pencil holder that was full of pens in various colors, and a picture frame containing a photo of Connor being assaulted with licking from a very large dog, it's wagging tail a blur. 

She wasn’t entirely sure why she was so surprised to find that he had a dog – it was only logical that Androids, now capable of emotion, might grow attached to animals. She mulled over it as she lowered herself into the chair at her designated desk, saying nothing as Hank began to angrily jab at his keyboard. He didn't seem inclined to inform her of where the remainder of her utility items were, so she pulled open drawers until she found them - a standard duty belt was there, equipped with handcuffs, a flashlight, a magazine pouch, a standard evidence kit, and gloves. Much lighter than what the common officer carried, but it would be well-concealed by her flannel due to that. She busied herself with settling the belt on her waist before holstering the gun there, and at last glancing up to survey her surroundings. 

Connor was perched in his own chair, his posture a smidgen straighter than was normal, though not nearly as rigid as she might have assumed. And even as she sat observing him from beneath her eyelashes, intrigued by the Android enigma, she found his own chocolate-hued gaze sliding towards her, before abruptly snapping back to his terminal when noticed.

Just when the silence began to feel almost unbearable, and as Diem busied herself with arranging her paltry amount of items on her desk (her over-the-counter pain medication, as she kept a stash in her kitchen and car as well, car key, and extra hair ties), a pair of hands landed heavily on her shoulders, making her jolt forward with an embarrassing squeak. 

“Re- _lax_ Dee,” came the familiar voice that had her shoulders drooping in relief as Hank and Connor looked up, Hank’s expression souring further, if possible. “How’d things with Fowler go?”

Gavin perched on the edge of her desk, turning his back to Connor and pointedly ignoring Hank’s growling as he stared down at her. He was dressed in a dark t-shirt and his usual brown leather jacket, a lopsided grin on his face. Diem shrugged, scratching idly at the skin of her wrist.

“It went well,” she replied, pushing down the fresh memories of Hank’s less-than-ideal reaction. “He assigned me to the Department of Android-Human Affairs.”

And just like that, the smile dropped from Gavin’s face, as she’d expected it to. He scowled, straightening and furrowing his brows in the direction of Fowler’s office. “What the fuck? Why?”

She winced at that, reminded again of just how little she’d told Gavin regarding her sister. He’d never once hesitated to make his disdain for Androids known, and the prospect of letting him know how very different their ideals were was…daunting. She knew, of course, that she would have to tell him one day. She was doing neither of them any favors by concealing it, and the longer she did so, the worse the fallout would be when the truth came to light. She wasn’t proud of her secret – not only because it wasn’t fair to Gavin, but also because it wasn’t fair to herself. She’d never been the type to be ashamed of her viewpoints or opinions, and yet…

And yet she hadn’t told him. The bullpen certainly wasn’t the place to do so, however. So Diem simply shrugged and told a half-truth. “He was impressed with my record, and thought I’d do well in this department. It’s fairly new, and I’m not exactly inexperienced. I’m excited to see what I’m capable of.”

“You sure? Because if you need me to talk to him…”

Before she could answer, Hank snorted, and Gavin’s head whipped sideways to level a sneer at the man.

“Oh, I’m sorry, Lieutenant. Didn’t notice you there. I was wondering where the smell of booze came from, though.”

The abrupt hostility that was now gathering above their desks like a thunderstorm took Diem by surprise. She paused, eyebrows raising as she watched the standoff between the two men, both seeming likely to explode at any moment.

“Fuck off, Reed,” came Hank’s venomous retort, the frustration that had previously been aimed at Diem now reserved for Gavin. “Besides, I tried to talk Fowler out of it. No use.”

“Shame. Diem’s too good for you and your mechanical pet, anyways. Try not to make her do your job for you _too_ much, alright?” 

Hank’s mouth opened to undoubtedly offer some retort, but Diem was swiftly growing tired of the dreary turn the morning had taken. She leaned forward, tugging at one of Gavin’s sleeves, and he turned back towards her, the ire melting from his expression.

“Hey. It’s okay. I’m fine with this,” she told him under her breath, giving a little shrug of her shoulders. “Look, it’s the first day and I’ve already had enough altercations to last me a lifetime.” His gaze started to move back towards Hank at this, but she squeezed his arm and he paused. “Are you still bringing Poppy by after work?”

“Of course I am. I’ll go get her the minute I get off.”

She couldn’t contain her smile at this, and Gavin certainly didn’t miss it, returning it with a grin of his own. “Thanks, Gav.”

“’Course. It’s what I’m here for, doll.” He slid from her desk at that, gesturing towards his own with a jerk of his thumb. “If you have a second later, come meet Tina and Chris. They won’t stop asking about you.”

“Roger that.” 

She sat silently for a moment after he was gone, waiting until he plopped down behind his desk before she turned, only to find both Hank and Connor watching her. The former seemed vaguely disgusted, while the latter was simply gazing at her, LED spinning yellow.

“Are there any cases we should we working on?” She asked, both to fill the silence and to stop whatever questions were posed on Hank’s tongue.

Hank shrugged at that, leaning back in his chair and sighing. “Not at the moment. Connor and I finished doing case files for the lot of them this morning, though I doubt it’ll be long before something comes in. A few minor things here and there, though there is one large investigation that’s ongoing. But I’m starving. I’ll fill you in over lunch.”

Before Diem could reply, Hank stood, shrugging on a worn jacket and swiping a set of keys from his desk. He turned on his heel and stalked towards the main exit, leaving Diem scrambling to gather her things in his wake.

“Detective Nash.”

She froze, the strap of her purse mid-way over her head as she looked up to find Connor watching her. Slowly, his lips pulled into a half-smirk that seemed to be his version of a smile. 

“Don’t worry about Hank. He’ll come around.”

She opened her mouth to say…well, something. She wasn’t entirely sure what. But before she could, Hank barked over his shoulder, “If you’re not in the car by the time I get to it, you’re not going.”

She and Connor made a dart for the exit without another word.


	4. Outside Looking In

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, people.
> 
> I fell behind on this more quickly than I'd hoped, but I have good reason. Hurricane Michael made direct landfall with my city and surrounding cities on Wednesday, October 10th, at 1 PM. The eyewall passed directly over me and my family/animals where we were huddled in our cars as a Category 5. Our city is devastated and destroyed, our people are without power, water, and food/supplies, but we are going strong. I'm helping rebuild our city as much as I can, but I may be scarce. Please keep us in your thoughts. <3

_Look at this montage_  
_Oh, you were happy then_  
_I made it for you to remind you of how you were then_  
_You've got your new life_  
_See through those new eyes_

The last thing that Diem expected Hank Anderson to listen to was _heavy metal_.

She wasn’t one to judge others for their musical preferences – her own taste tended to fluctuate wildly, after all. She was simply surprised. 

She sat buckled up in his backseat, her eyes widening in surprise at the sheer force and volume of the music when he cranked the car. Connor seemed entirely unperturbed, as if it happened frequently, and so after a moment of tense uncertainty, Diem leaned back against the upholstery. 

She didn’t bother asking where they were going – not that she could have, over the music. It felt strange to be in the back of Hank’s car when minutes before they’d been at each other’s throats in Fowler’s office. She wasn’t entirely sure why he’d invited her along for lunch, though she assumed it was due to a sense of obligation, rather than him desiring her company. She hadn’t forgotten the look of sheer disgust in his eyes when Gavin had visited her desk, or the explosive anger when Fowler had assigned her to their department.

They stopped several minutes later outside of a food truck dubbed “The Chicken Feed”, and as Diem climbed from the car, she couldn’t help quirking a brow at the establishment. Hank, of course, noticed. Rather than snapping at her, he shrugged. “Give it a chance. It’s pretty good.”

“Actually,” Connor interjected, “it’s not. Hank enjoys the food, but it’s terribly unhealthy, and my records have informed me that the food hygiene license expired several years ago, on May 20th, 2031. Its renewal was refused, and its sanitation rating is currently listed as a ‘C’, or sixty percent. Also, the amount of calories in each meal is downright—”

“Goddamn it, Connor, quit that. The girl’s turning green. Besides, I get free food here. You want anything?”

Diem was terribly conflicted; her apple was still tucked in her purse, and seemed much more appealing than shady, unsanitary food truck sandwiches. But judging by what she’d silently observed, Hank frequented The Chicken Feed with no reservations about returning. And, after their initial terse meeting in Fowler’s office, it seemed unwise to turn down his offer. Maybe this was his was of mending things or including her. She wavered, chewing at her lip as she glanced over the menu.

“I, um…” She paused, feeling both the gazes of Connor and Hank on her as she debated. “Maybe just a drink? I have an apple with me. It’s better if I eat light for the first part of the day…”

She trailed off, glancing up to find that Hank seemed appeased by her acceptance of at least _something_ , and Connor looked…pleased.

“Suit yourself, kid,” Hank said. “Whaddaya want to drink?”

“Half Coke, half Root Beer.”

It was rattled off automatically, falling from her tongue easily, but when Hank turned quizzically to face her, she shrugged.

“It’s…the Coke alone is too sweet, you know? But the taste of the Root Beer is a little overwhelming. So I just…mix them.”

Hank scowled at her but didn’t dispute her request, instead turning to repeat it to a man inside of the truck, including his order. While he was doing so, Connor moved to sit at one of the tables flanking the street, and Diem uncertainly followed.

She could feel his gaze on her as she sat, reaching within her bag to extract her apple, which she rubbed clean with the sleeve of her flannel. The silence stretched between them, punctuated occasionally by Hank bantering with the worker behind the counter.

Just when Diem was truly beginning to reconsider her tagging along, Connor spoke.

“I’ve heard that you have an abnormally large chicken as a companion,” he said.

Diem blinked, startled, her apple forgotten as she arched a brow and glanced up. “An abnormally…what?” Her hair swayed, tickling her jaw on one side as she tilted her head. A moment later, however, it occurred to her what he meant. She laughed, unable to help herself, and Connor stilled at the noise. “Do you mean Poppy? She’s not a chicken, she’s a cockatoo. A regular sized cockatoo.”

“Oh. Perhaps I misunderstood Detective Reed and Officer Chen, then.”

“Gavin isn’t Poppy’s biggest fan. Birds aren’t like cats and dogs, you know?” She was talking before she could stop herself, gesturing with her free hand as Hank finally joined them, sliding her drink across the table. “They’re loud and moody, and you can’t just command them to be quiet.”

“Sumo is loud, particularly whenever he sees squirrels from the window,” Connor supplied.

“I’m assuming Sumo is a dog, then?” Diem asked, reminded of the picture she’d seen on Connor’s desk.

“He’s a Saint Bernard,” Hank offered, swiping a few fries through a blob of ketchup. “Been with me a while. One hell of a dog.”

“I found that I like dogs, thanks to Sumo,” Connor added.

“Yeah?” asked Diem, strangely delighted by the banter that she’d found herself a part of. Without having fully recognized it, the tension from earlier had melted away. “So do I. I would have gotten one, if the apartment would have allowed it. We had this dog, growing up. She was a Golden Retriever. She was a huge doofus in general, but the second that she thought someone was threatening me or my sister…it was over.”

Diem smiled at the memory, finally leaning in to take a bite of her apple at the same moment that Hank bit into his burger. Connor watched the pair of them, LED flickering.

“Is your sister younger, or older?” Connor asked. It was a common subject of communication but coming from him it sounded so…genuinely inquisitive. 

Swallowing her bite of apple, she supplied, “Older.”

“What’s her name?”

Here, Diem paused. It was a heartbeat, a moment of stilled time, but oddly she felt as if Connor noticed. What harm would it be, to give Leah’s first name? Surely there were thousands of Leah’s in Detroit, and to lie would only come back to haunt her, should Connor decide to run a background check. Reluctantly, she replied, “Leah.” 

“’Least your sister seems normal,” Hank interrupted, mid-chew. “What the fuck kind of name is Diem?” 

“Hank,” Connor warned, but Diem laughed, the sound seeming to take everyone by surprise. It wasn’t the first time she’d received the question, and she doubted it would be the last.

“Leah was the unexpected child – don’t get me wrong, she was very much welcomed and wanted. But she wasn’t planned. My mom sort of just…went for everything on the fly with Leah, like most first-time parents do. My conception, however, was totally intentional.” She paused, sipping at her soda and watching a jogging couple pass by. “She had names picked out before she was even close to knowing my gender. Believe me, there were worse choices than Diem.”

“You don’t like your name, Detective?” Connor asked.

“Oh, I don’t mind it. It’s a bit cheesy, maybe, but I’ve always thought it was unique. I never had to worry about there being another ‘Diem’ in class.”

Hank, Diem noticed, had gone quiet. He seemed content to sit shoveling the remainder of his fries into his mouth, his brow furrowed as he stared down at his sandwich. She wasn’t sure what had turned the tide of the conversation, but things had grown strangely heavy again, and she was reluctant to break the silence.

“So, about the investigation,” Hank said after some time, having finished most of his meal. “It’s pretty new, and we don’t have a whole lot of leads just yet. There’s a group that’s been gaining traction around Detroit, making a name for themselves with certain types of people. They’re a little difficult to pinpoint and get a good read on, because they’re…uh, very exclusive. From what we understand, they pride themselves on reactionary and borderline extremist positions when it comes to human supremacy.”

Diem’s stomach twisted sharply at the words, her lips pulling downwards into a heavy frown. “Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me. Human supremacy? We’re really gonna let history repeat itself by going down that path again?”

Hank shrugged. “Hopefully people aren’t that fucking dumb, but…well, they are. We’re trying to gather more information, but they’re reluctant to talk. And they haven’t broken any laws that we can prove.”

“Sounds like you suspect them of something, though.”

“There’s been a slight rise in crimes against Androids since they’ve become known to us,” said Connor. Diem glanced sideways at him, wondering how he could seem so very calm knowing that an extremist group was on the rise with the sole intention of harming his kind. “We have no way of confirming that they’re behind the attacks, of course, but the methods they utilize are similar and…unique.”

“Unique how?” Diem queried, almost afraid to ask. Though she couldn’t say it aloud, she was tempted to ask Leah during their scheduled Wednesday meeting if she knew anything regarding the concerning new organization.

“Dismemberment while the Android is still conscious, before their severed parts are burned.” Connor sat reclining just slightly in his chair, and though his voice did not falter, Diem didn’t miss the blinking of his LED, or the twitching of his fingers. “We’re always unable to recover specific parts of the Androids, as well.”

“You mean…parts taken as, what, trophies?”

“Yes. Their thirium pumps.”

Their _hearts_ \- they were taking their hearts. Diem closed her eyes and lifted a hand to pinch the bridge of her nose, exhaling lightly. “So we have tortured and dismembered Androids, and a highly-politically motivated group that’s popped up at the same time, but no way to tie them to the crimes.”

“Yep,” drawled Hank. “Sure you can handle that? We could always see about gettin’ you partnered with your lover-boy, if not.”

And just like that, the spell was broken. Diem sat up straighter, eyes popping open as she leveled a stare at Hank. “What, exactly, is your problem with Gavin?”

Hank’s bark of laughter was abrupt and harsh, making her bristle. Diem felt like the new kid on the playground, thrown suddenly into a dynamic that she didn’t quite understand. It was akin, she imaged, to being thrown to the wolves, wounded and vulnerable. 

She should’ve known. 

“I’d be more than happy to fill you in, but we don’t have enough time in the world.” Hank crumpled up his sandwich wrapper, the loud crinkling doing little to calm Diem’s frayed nerves. “He’s a prick, plain and simple. I don’t know what you see in the guy.”

“You don’t have to,” Diem retorted, forcing herself to take several deep breaths. It wasn’t normally quite so easy to rankle her, but the Lieutenant had found a chink in her armor, digging his claws languidly into the cracks. “My relationship with Gav – _Detective Reed_ has nothing to do with this case. Maybe we should just file that away under personal topics that shouldn’t be discussed.”

“I believe that would be wise,” Connor offered. 

Hank snorted, turning his attention away from Diem, who was admittedly relieved. “Oh, that’s rich, coming from you. You’re the king of personal questions.”

“I just think that we shouldn’t make Detective Nash feel as if she’s being subjected to a hostile environment on her first day, specifically over an element of her life that has little to do with our investigation.”

“For fuck’s sake, Connor, I’m not ‘subjecting her to a hostile environment’. I’m just bustin’ her balls a little.”

“She doesn’t have –”

“I _know_ -”

Diem’s phone vibrated in her pocket, and she tore her gaze away from the bickering pair across from her to retrieve it, trying to calm her racing heart. 

**GAVIN:** _How are things going with the dream team? Wanna blow your brains out yet??_

She shifted to reply, but almost immediately froze, thumbs poised over the keyboard onscreen. A part of Diem wanted to confide in Gavin, to admit her confusion when it came to her new partners, specifically Hank Anderson. How could someone fluctuate so wildly as he did, seeming nothing short of irate by her presence one moment, and then speaking to her calmly and normally the next? 

And yet…would that make the situation worse, she wondered? It was abundantly clear that a toxic relationship had already been established between Hank, Connor, and Gavin. She had no desire to come crashing into the dynamic like a naïve wrecking ball, finding herself suddenly swept up in the rubble. 

Her thumbs remained still, until at last the screen went dark as the phone locked. Diem slid it back into her pocket slowly, carefully, as if moving too quickly would startle the still-bickering duo in her company. Neither of them had noticed her momentary lack of attention, so Diem leaned forward to wrap both hands around her cup, nibbling absentmindedly at the straw as she watched them, as if she were a child again, browsing the Lansing marketplace with her mother, sticking her palms against the stained-glass windows of the shops to peer inside at the kaleidoscope interiors, imagining for just a moment that she was a part of that strange, alternate universe glimpsed within. 

 

When they returned to the department half an hour later, Gavin made quick work of pulling Diem aside the moment she strode past his desk, his palm wrapping gently around her bicep as he turned her towards him.

“I was worried about you,” he informed her, furrowing his brows. “Everything go alright?”

“Shit, yeah, I’m sorry.” The apology fell from her lips immediately as Gavin’s hand fell from her side, burrowing into his pocket. “We just went to get lunch at The Chicken Feed, and I totally forgot to reply to your text.”

“The Chicken Feed, huh? Sorry about your luck.” Just like that, the smirking Gavin that she was so familiar with was back. He leaned back against his desk, propping one of his ankles atop the other as he stretched his legs out into the aisle. “They give you anymore shit?”

“No.” This, too, slipped from her lips quickly, automatically. She’d decided on the drive back that she’d do everything in her power to get along with her new coworkers, to leave Gavin firmly out of that equation, and to separate her work and home life – for her own sanity, and undoubtedly for Gavin’s as well. “They were completely fine.”

“If you say so. Look, I don’t wanna crowd you on your first day, but you don’t have any reports or case files right now, and Miller and Chen won’t stop naggin’ me about meeting you…”

Truthfully Diem found that she wanted nothing more than to settle behind her desk and gather more information from Hank and Connor regarding their ongoing investigation. It had been some time since she’d been involved in something that had a potential to be so monumental; it was precisely what she lived for, what she’d become a detective for. But meeting her new coworkers wasn’t exactly a horrible idea, and Gavin was looking at her in that compelling way of his, gaze flicking up from beneath his slightly-pinched brows, waiting. So, she smiled and nodded, letting him lead her through the maze of desks until he reached two that were side-by-side.

While both were admirably enthusiastic when Gavin loudly and brashly announced her presence, Tina was the most notable of the two in her glee. She was a pretty girl, Diem noted, with narrow brown eyes that shone, and full lips that stretched immediately into a wide smile as she shook Diem’s hand. Chris Miller was just a fraction more laidback, his feet propped on his desk as he offered a half-lazy, half-cheery wave and a quick flash of teeth. Immediately Diem knew that neither of them would be giving her any problems; they both seemed downright intrigued by her company, questioning her good-naturedly about Lansing, her family, her previous occupation, and everything in-between.

Which, of course, included Gavin.

“So,” Tina said, with a Cheshire grin that was impossible to ignore, making Diem smile in return. “How did you and Gavin meet?”

“Oh, well.” Diem glanced towards Gavin, who shifted and scowled. He might have fooled the others, but Diem knew him well enough to spot the sheepish edge beneath his gruff exterior. “It was while I was in Detroit for a weekend, visiting my sister and friends. You know how it is – my coworkers and I had Law Enforcement buddies here.”

Chris bobbed his head. “Birds of a feather and all that.”

“Exactly. Attended academy together. Anyways, because of that, Gavin and I’s friend groups kind of collided while we were out at a bar. And it just sort of…went from there. We visited each other pretty regularly, and when he told me that a position had opened up with he DPD, I couldn’t exactly resist applying. So…here we are.”

“That,” Tina declared, “is adorable. I can’t imagine Gavin being the romantic, sweet type. Dude’s a total dick around here.”

“Watch it, asshole,” Gavin fired back, notably lacking in hostility. 

“See?” Chris sighed, slapping a hand over his chest. “What a charmer.”

For the second time that day, Diem found herself included in something that predated her, but that still welcomed her all the same. She wanted them banter as they surrounded her – Chen, grinning as she nudged Miller with her shoulder. Gavin, scowling at the jokes being thrown his way but still seeming oddly good-natured. And then herself, perched there watching them, trying to ignore the creeping feeling along her spine that suggested someone was watching her, too – someone from the direction of Connor and Hank Anderson’s desks.


End file.
